


nobody believes a liar

by supremely sinful (I_Am_Not_A_Robot)



Category: The Boy Who Cried Wolf - Aesop
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Bestiality, Blood and Injury, First Time, Knotting, M/M, Painful Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Violence, Underage Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:08:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28666728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Am_Not_A_Robot/pseuds/supremely%20sinful
Summary: The villagers weren't the only ones who heard him raise false alarms.
Relationships: The Boy/The Wolf (The Boy Who Cried Wolf)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 69





	nobody believes a liar

**Author's Note:**

> uwu

The green, vibrant pasture nestled between a dark forest and the mountains on one side, and the village some ways away, had become the young shepherd’s usual place to spend his afternoons. It was novel at first, as there was the excitement that came with having a responsibility for the first time. Additionally, his parents trusted him to be left alone with the flock; they trusted that he was old enough to care for them properly, that he was capable, and that was nice. But after awhile, the job had gotten... boring. And lonely.

He leaned against his staff, squinting in the sunlight, sweating under the summer’s unrelenting sun. A few sheep next to him grazed, and he reached out to pat the closest one on the head. She hardly responded, except looking up at him for a second before returning to munching on the grass. “It’s a pretty boring day, isn’t it?” And then a pause, as he cringed. “Oh, I’m talking to the  _ sheep _ now. That’s pathetic.”

But an idea was forming in his head, as his gaze wandered to the dark forest. The trees were old and dense there, casting heavy shadows when the sun set far enough. They used to scare him when he was a kid, especially when he heard the wolves howling to each other. His parents had told him that the wolves might come after the flock, and if that happened he was to call the village in, for the large amount of people and noises would scare the wolves away (hopefully not to return for some time). 

The wind whispered amid the dark evergreens, and the shepherd smiled. ‘ _ Boredom, begone!’  _ he thought, and took in a deep breath of air to steel his nerves before he dropped his staff and took off across the pasture, running towards his village, yelling loudly to catch their attentions. “Wolf! There’s a wolf attacking the sheep!”

Like a swarm of bees converging on an animal stupid enough to get near their hive, the villagers had run to the pasture and started to search for the wolf, ready to protect their precious sheep. “Where is it?!”

But there was no wolf, and the shepherd boy was nearly doubled over with raucous laughter. “You— pfff hahaha, you should have seen your expressions! There is no wolf; it was only a jest!” Really, their looks of rage were absolutely hilarious! This was  _ such _ a good idea.

They didn’t look pleased at all with the shepherd, and began to trudge back to the village, grumbling about their day being interrupted and how the shepherd was an insolent child. The shepherd only laughed at their comments about him,  _ absolutely _ pleased with himself. It worked, didn’t it? He was no longer bored.

The shepherd waited two weeks before he tried the trick again. Like the last time, the villagers came rushing to the pasture, albeit more hesitant than last time, and it was just as funny (if not more so). Once again, there was no wolf in sight, and they were all thoroughly upset. His grandmother harshly yanked his ear and gave him a talking to, but the shepherd didn’t pay attention. 

“You’ve got to learn one thing,” his grandmother said in that gruff voice of hers, “And that’s this: if you give up one too many false alarms, if you make a joke out of too many people... well, there will be a day when you need help, but nobody will help you.” 

“Alright, I get it,” he said, trying to sound apologetic despite being annoyed with the lecture. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“Good.” She ambled back to the farm.

Characteristically, however, the shepherd boy was lying, although he didn’t know it at the time.

The third boring afternoon when the boy would cry “Wolf!” came a month later. His fourteenth birthday had come and passed in that time frame, as did the summer solstice, which were all very fun... but at this moment there was nothing to do. He groaned, drawing in the dirt with his staff.

And then he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. 

Whipping around to see what it was, the shepherd’s blood grew cold. A living shadow wove between the trees, its eyes glowing orange. He thought he saw fur, but couldn’t be sure due to how dark the forest was. But was it... could it be...?

The sky was darkening, and the moon peeked between the clouds, fat but not quite at its zenith. He should be herding the sheep back home, but his feet were rooted to the spot. When the creature broke past the tree line, he nearly fainted, skin going pale at the sight, a chill running down his back despite the warmth hanging in the air.

That was a wolf, but not one like he’d ever seen. It was huge, at least seven feet tall, and when it reared onto two legs and began to lumber towards him, the shepherd finally found his voice and screamed: “Wolf! Come help!” It made a noise that sounded somewhere between a laugh and a growl, and the shepherd’s panic grew. “Help!” he cried, voice cracking embarrassingly. “It’s going to attack the sheep!” 

No one came. Said sheep started to trot towards the vague direction of the farm, making distressed bleats.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh Lord,” he rambled uselessly in panic, unable to move as it drew near to him. The sun had sunk below the mountains; night rapidly fell, and the moon rose higher in the sky. 

When it made a sudden lunge the spell broke, and the shepherd took off running through the field, down towards the village, losing his sandals in the process. He didn’t dare yell or scream anymore, not wanting to waste valuable breath on that when he was already panting with exertion— and yet the village wasn’t close enough!

A warm body hit him from behind, sending him tumbling to the floor. He rolled over and used his momentum to smack his shepherding staff as hard as he could against the wolf, but the beast didn’t react with any sort of pained sound, only growling viciously and biting onto it right as the shepherd reared it back for another attack. The staff was tossed far away. 

“I don’t want to die,” he whimpered, pitifully, struggling to free himself. 

The monstrous wolf — if it even was a wolf — dug its terrible claws into his arms, on either side of his body, drawing blood. It growled viciously, only ceasing when the shepherd stopped writhing beneath it. Thick, sticky saliva dripped from its open maw, and every exhale puffed hot air into the shepherd’s face, who winced at both the sensation and smell. It dropped its head into the crook of his neck, and he went completely rigid as it first took a deep breath to inhale his scent, and then let go of him for a second, only to rotate the boy onto his stomach. 

He lay there, head faint and dizzy with fear, as teeth clamped on his shoulder, hard enough that blood bubbled up. A terrified cry fell from his lips as it yanked him upwards, to a kneeling position, his back pressed against its chest and his hands clenching the dirt. One of those strangely humanlike, dexterous paws held him in place by wrapping around his torso, and the other, it... well, the shepherd heard the tearing of fabric, and then cooling air danced along the bare skin of his legs and groin, causing him to shudder. 

“No,” he protested, and yet the wolf —  _ but it so clearly wasn’t a wolf _ — did not undo the damage, nor did it let him go. In fact, those teeth sunk deeper into the flesh of his shoulder, wrenching another pained noise out of him, just as felt something hot and wet brush against his buttocks. 

He was old enough to know where this was going. Hell, he’d  _ seen _ it happen before, that’s just the sort of thing you know about early on when you’re growing up on a farm. Never did he expect it would happen to him, though, especially since he was not a girl, and he definitely was not a female animal.

So the werewolf steadied its — no,  _ his _ — forelimb on the ground, the other still restraining the young shepherd, and pressed their hips together, trying to gain entrance into the boy’s ass. He began to weep, from the humiliation of this, the violation, the terror that struck his fast-beating heart more than anything else in his relatively short life had. Would this kill him? God, what if it did?! 

The monster’s cock finally found the hole, and pushed against it, even though the shepherd’s body so clearly tried to deny access. Growling in either anticipation or frustration, the werewolf pulled back slightly and then rammed his cock inside forcefully, with no respect to the owner of the body he penetrated, who now shrieked. 

“No! Stop, I’ll die! Get it out! Get it out, please I beg of you!”

There wasn’t much except blood to smooth the way in, and that made it all the more painful for the shepherd, but just a bit uncomfortable for the werewolf. He took a minute to steady himself, lapping at the blood that poured out of the boy’s shoulder, simply basking in the feeling. This kid was  _ tight _ , and he tasted good. 

Originally, he intended to stay far away from the human settlement, but this shepherd kept  _ calling _ for him, crying “Wolf!” — and he couldn’t help it if his libido went into overdrive around when the moon was full. He’d managed to keep himself away during the last one, but this time he couldn’t, and as the moon rose higher into the sky the aching in his gut grew stronger, turning into a fire that was only satiated now that he was buried to the hilt in the teen’s body. 

The werewolf began to thrust with an animalistic fervor, and the shepherd groaned as the cock brutally rammed against his organs. It felt like they were being pushed aside to make room for the intruder’s girth, and when he looked down he could see a bump there, which was a detail that disturbed him greatly. God, it was so big. He felt like passing out, but no matter how much he tried to distance himself from the situation — his brain desperately searching for escape since his body was stuck — he couldn’t. He couldn’t get away. There was too much pain, too many sensations... of a fur-covered chest pressed against his back, of the slick, hot mess between his legs, the tongue that licked at the side of his face like the monster wanted to kiss him...

And the way that sometimes the werewolf’s cock would brush against the right spot, and a little warmth would spread, just a tiny bit of pleasure racing up his spine. He abhorred that. 

What kind of sick, disgusting mistake of nature would take any pleasure in being raped in a field on his hands and knees, sodomized by a creature that was half human, half wild animal? 

But it kept on going, it kept on pushing in and out and in and out, every thrust a pinch but sometimes it felt  _ good _ — and the shepherd wanted to cry. Was this the universe’s cruel idea for punishing him? He’d pranked the village so many times, and now a wolf had come out of the forest on a day when the villagers had lost all trust in his alarmed cries. Now, the wolf decided to take pleasure out of the boy’s plight... because no one would come to save the shepherd. 

And when that special spot deep within him was hit one more time, the boy couldn’t contain the moan that slipped out, unexpectedly. By this point his limbs were so shaky that he was completely being held up by his attacker, and the werewolf let the top half of his body fall to the ground, face in the dirt and grass while his hips were high in the air, providing better access for the werewolf to drive his cock deep and hard into him. He cried out, again and again, because even if the pain was still there his body had started to react in a more positive way — he prayed he wasn’t hard from this — while each punch to his gut started to feel nice, somewhere below the torment. 

“Lord help me,” he mumbled between gasps.

The werewolf’s claws abruptly dug into his hips, and he groaned again, eyes shutting tight against the fire that spread from the new injuries. His pacing had grown uneven, panting breaths more and more shaky across the boy’s neck, and he bit down once again as he stilled. 

For a moment, the shepherd thought it was over. He almost sighed in relief, until another thought entered his mind, and the terror came back with a vengeance. He was lucky he hadn’t been completely torn, but as for what was coming next? It would require a rare kind of luck to survive. 

With renewed determination the shepherd attempted to wriggle out of the wolf’s grip, and he nearly succeeded — freedom was  _ so close _ — had there not been two sets of evilly sharp claws lodged in the flesh of his waist. They sunk in and left him screaming once again, limp and trembling as the blood watered the grass under him. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he slurred, nearly incoherent. His vision was going spotty. Whatever remained of the sun’s light was now fully disappearing. A large  _ something _ pushed at his already-stretched entrance, and with a uncivilized grunt the werewolf pressed against the boy, trying to get it in. 

“It won’t fit...”

The werewolf snarled, roughly manhandling the boy, and then the knot was finally enveloped by his abused flesh as it forced its way inside. 

Blinding agony. This surely had to be an ordeal straight out of Hell. The shepherd could only manage a high-pitched keen, too tired and scared to scream by now. The knot was big, so horribly big, and he felt like throwing up because everything hurt so much.

Slowly, over the next indeterminable amount of minutes, the knot deflated. Every minute was awful, though. The air was getting colder, and even if the werewolf’s body temperature was unbearably hot the night air managed to slip in and freeze the young shepherd’s extremities (by this point he couldn’t even feel his fingers or toes)... and then every once in awhile the monster would shift and the ache in his guts would freshly reignite, or the werewolf’s long wet tongue would get to licking at his neck again, like he loved the taste of the boy’s skin.

Being squeamish, he instinctively scrunched his shoulders up, but that only served to spur the werewolf into nibbling and licking at him more. “St... stop it,” he pleaded. 

And it stopped. The werewolf, at long last, pulled out. The rest of the shepherd’s body dropped to the ground, where he lay exhausted and hurt, covered in blood and tears and semen. 

He didn’t leave. No, he just crouched and stared with those remorseless orange eyes of his, as if deciding what to do next. The sun had completely set by now, and the only light to see by was the moon and stars. Nobody would spot the boy until morning, and there was a good chance he’d be very ill by then if he had to wait for someone to find him. 

The shepherd really, truly did not want anyone to find him like this. It would be dreadful. How could he explain what he’d been through? Oh, and the wise elders of the village would blame it on him, saying _ “Nobody believes a liar! If only you’d told the truth more often, maybe we would’ve come when you cried for help!” _

A gentle touch turned him over onto his back, and he looked up into those orange eyes, so human and intelligent, yet so far removed from morality or empathy. It was not a welcome gaze to hold.

When he bent down to press his muzzle against the shepherd’s lips, he let that happen. When a hand gripped his jaw and forced it open, he let that happen. When the tongue shoved down his throat, he— well he choked, but other than that he let it happen. There was no use fighting anymore, not when he was this weak from both blood loss and physical trauma. The shepherd boy had completely given up. 

That disgusting kiss lasted only twenty seconds, maybe, before the werewolf sat back up and touched the boy, pulling his shirt up and running a hand up to his breast, before shredding the shirt as well, leaving him mostly bare. He flinched back at the barbaric motion. The touches returned then, roaming across the expanse of his skinny body, even ghosting upon his dick at one point, and when the werewolf bent down to lick a stripe up his body from the navel to the collarbone he couldn’t suppress a shudder. 

“Please, let me go,” he whispered. 

The monster replied by making that haunting not-quite laughing sound, and standing up to his full bipedal height. He only wasted a few moments looking down at the miserable shepherd, before disappearing into the darkness of the forest that he originally appeared from. A victorious howl — maybe he was insane to hear the taunting in its tone — echoed off the evergreens.

Against his own volition, his eyelids drooped shut. Oh, but he shouldn’t fall asleep! Not before he cleaned himself up! What would happen in the morning?? He was terrified to be found like this! And yet, his eyes kept closing, heavy as iron. The shepherd simply couldn’t stay awake anymore, no matter how hard he fought.

The void embraced him.


End file.
